We have a rule here under the tulip tree. No negative blogs. We figure if we are in a bad mood, it doesn’t do a thing to improve our disposition to put it on paper, and you certainly don't want to hear us whine. Oh, we might go on what we hope is a funny rant about something that annoys us, but no whining, complaining, or "woe is me" because somebody else always has it worse.
That said, I haven't had a stellar weekend. Nothing terrible. No one's sick, hurt, or dead. Everybody who loved me Thursday still does, as far as I know. The writing is even going well. But while I was getting ready to go to Precious Angel's state playoff game Friday night, the dishwasher overflowed. Then Precious Angel's team lost. Then Saturday, my team lost. And there are a couple of trivial things that are annoying me that I won't go into here.
This morning in church, when I should have been thinking about the sermon, I decided I needed some comfort and I was going to get it for myself. These are the things that comfort me:
- Homemade chicken and dumplings (they have to be mine; mine are best)
- Flannel pajamas
- A cup of plain old black Folgers coffee
- Rereading a favorite book—maybe something by Julia Quinn or Susan Elizabeth Phillips.
Then I made myself think about the good parts of my annoyances.
- Dishwasher—at least the floor got clean.
- Precious Angel's loss—he and his team comported themselves like gentleman. They lost like winners. The winning team comported themselves like gentlemen. They were gracious winners. The officials comported themselves like gentlemen and the calls were fair.
- My team—well, it was hard but they also lost like winners. And really, how great is it when your team has such a winning tradition, that you have almost forgotten how to lose?
When it came time for communion, I turned to see a sweet neighborhood boy who I used to have in story time when I was a librarian, being helped into his wheelchair by his father to be rolled to the communion rail. It wasn't supposed to be that way. At nineteen, he was on his way home from work and went to sleep at the wheel. Yet his parents say how lucky they are that he can communicate and sit up in a regular chair. And I am lucky that he smiled and spoke to me this morning and that he made a joke to me a few weeks ago.
Puts it in prospective. But, I'm still going to take a little comfort.There's nothing wrong with that.
What comforts you when you are down?